They both took their seats—Quirion’s was a throne taken from some arrogant king who hadn’t known how to respectfully treata scholar who just wanted to help, while Milo’s was a modern and ergonomic office chair with an extra high foot because the table was raised to accommodate Quirion’s height—and Quirion put the letter in front of them. It was time for a lesson.
“The history of written correspondence is long and interesting, as you well know, and unfortunately we don’t have the time to delve deeper into all the beautiful variations of calligraphy invented over the times.”
Milo’s shoulders sagged a little. The young man was clearly devastated and Quirion made a mental note to make it up to him. Perhaps they could do a little excursion to Japan and meet with a master calligrapher there. Quirion knew just the woman.
“What the SBW has sent you is not just an invitation to partake in their little competition, it’s also a first test.”
Milo straightened in his seat. “To see how I respond. Would they dismiss me if I sent them something on generic paper, written with a ballpen? Or something printed?”
“No, not immediately, but it would be the first strike against you. You see, they’re not just looking for the best and the brightest, they’re looking for people well-rounded and knowledgeable of the ways of the world.”
Milo’s sigh came from the depths of his soul. “In other words, they’re basically like every other donator. They don’t do if for the science, they want to see themselves reflected in there.”
“Your wisdom is already great, Milo. Giving away money usually means the person giving it out has a lot of it. To have a lot of money, a person very often is a certain way. And that certain way prevents them from not asking for some kind of recognition for their gift. Plus, it’s a way of demonstrating power. They have something you want, and they can make you jump through hoops to get it.” Quirion eyed his assistant from the side. “You do know that Barion, Dre, and I would love to fund your research, Milo. Not to mention Dad and his mates, as well as Emilia.”
“I know. And I’m sorely tempted.” Milo looked at him with his deep, deep, soulful eyes. “But it feels wrong. Taking money from friends. Not after everything you’ve all done for me.”
It reflected highly on Milo that he valued the immaterial help he had received in the form of long conversations, hugs, and them just being there during his mother’s illness and the stressful times following it, more than all the money they would have thrown his way if he’d only let them. Quirion knew better than to press Milo.
“Then we have to brave the writing of the letter.”
That got him a chuckle from Milo and the mood instantly lightened. “How do I go about answering the letter in the right way? I assume showing them that I understand the importance of polite correspondence entails using the right equipment?”
“You really are super smart.” Quirion beamed at him. “First, the right parchment.” He rummaged in the drawer in one of his huge rolling cabinets. With a triumphant huff he pulled three different sheets out and placed them on the surface of the table. “Which one would you choose, Milo?”
Milo eyed the paper then the letter. He pointed to the sheet on the left. “Not that one. I know you use this for your correspondence with Sammy and it looks more expensive than the one from the letter.”
Quirion nodded proudly.Only the best for me and Sammy. “Very good. While the paper they’re using is quite acceptable, it’s not the highest standard. Answering on the most expensive parchment would show them up, which they won’t appreciate.”Beverly would start frothing, no doubt.For a tiny moment, Quirion was tempted to provoke a tantrum from the vampire. He reined in the urge. This was about Milo, not some petty barbs he wanted to get in Beverly’s flesh. He nodded at Milo, who pointed at the middle paper.
“Not this one either. It looks and feels a bit cheaper than the letter. While it would show them that I understand what they’re expecting, it would also send the message that I can’t meet those standards fully and I don’t want that.”
“Well thought out, Milo. You could go this route, make them see how good you could be if you had the funds, but you’re right. We want them to see you on the same level as they are. You’re not some beggar hoping for scraps. You’re a brilliant scientist and they should be grateful for the chance to fund your research.”
“I think all this scheming is giving me a headache.”
“We’ve only just started.” Quirion patted Milo’s hand. “If it’d make you feel better, we could get some hot chocolate from that café in Sweden you like so much.”
Milo immediately perked up. “Can we?”
“It’s only a rip in time and space away.” Quirion grinned and before either of them could have second thoughts, he got one of his claws out and ripped reality.
“Hej,” the nice owner of the café in Uppsala greeted them. Alma was human, but Quirion knew that she knew that he was very much not of the same species. After Sammy had become his mate, Dre had introduced Quirion to her special brand of hot chocolate—which Quirion was sure had a magical component, though he had yet to prove it—and already during that first meeting Quirion had sensed that she saw more than the glamour should technically allow her. Even now she was looking at him with an adventurous gleam in her eyes that belied the grayness of her hair.
“Hej,” he and Milo greeted her back.
“The usual?” Alma asked.
Milo nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please, your famousvarm choklad. I need it.” He rolled his eyes.
Alma chuckled and started making the drinks with sure, steady gestures. It was obvious that it was muscle memory for her. Quirion followed her movements with hungry eyes.
“And two pieces ofSemla, please. They look especially tasty today.”
Alma giggled, which made her a good thirty years younger. “You say that every time, Quirinus.” She was using the name Quirion usually gave humans when he had to interact with them, and it felt a little more off every time she said it. Somehow, he felt Alma deserved to know his true name. Quirion cleared his throat to finally remedy this particular problem when Alma put two travel mugs with steamingvarm chokladin front of them, quickly adding four pieces ofSemlain a box. “Varsagod. I take it from your account, as usual.”
“Tack.” Quirion took one travel mug and the box while Milo grabbed the other mug. “It has been freshly filled.” Since Sweden had gotten rid of cash payment in large parts, Quirion’s coins were of little use, but he and Alma had come to an agreement. He had an account set up where he put a certain amount of money every few months. Alma deducted the money for every purchase he made. It allowed for spontaneous trips to Uppsala without Quirion having to worry about getting a credit card. He wasn’t overly fond of this new-fangled way of payment, preferring the solidity of gold instead. Then again, there wasn’t that much gold going around, what with dragons hoarding large quantities of it and Quirion’s own, rather impressive collection deep under his library. He didn’t put as much value in the shiny metal as he did with books, though didn’t see why he should be letting it lie around either. It not only tempted humans but also some supernatural creatures to do stupid things which tended to end in tears. Not his, of course, but tears nonetheless. He was doing the world a favor by putting it out of circulation. Well, mostly out of circulation.Varm chokladdidn’t count.
When he and Milo were back in the library, Quirion put the box with theSemlaon another desk specifically for food and beverages. Before Milo had started working for him, the mere idea of having something potentially damaging to the books in their vicinity had been absurd. After a lengthy lecture from Dre about the needs of humans—who would have thought they needed to drink at least one and half liters of liquid every day to keep functioning—and having witnessed what a lack of food and drink would do to a young human body, he had gotten this table. It was bespelled to not let anything dangerous like fluids or fatty smears one could get on their hands when eating, say, a deliciousSemla, to get away from it. It was the work of a genius, even if he said so himself. After one had eaten, simply pulling one’s hands back from the table cleaned them because all the bad stuff was swallowed by the spell.
